


Sorbet

by SLq



Series: Hannibal the Cannibal [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, M/M, Will Knows, puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6627964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLq/pseuds/SLq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will has something to say about Hannibal's terrible sense of humor. [CRACK, with a bit of murderous fluff]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorbet

If you have not yet seen xVanigliax's [MIX OF CANNIBAL NONSENSE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8r1XRDaWbIk), please remedy that immediately. :D

 

* * *

 

Will Graham sits at Hannibal Lecter's table and tries very, very hard not to bash his own head against it in pure, helpless agony. For one, it would be rather rude to Jack and his lovely wife. For another, the amalgamation of flowers and scoops of meat and what looks like several bird beaks protruding from his dinner plate is bound to take out at least an eye.

Hannibal pauses his conversation with a softly chuckling Jack to turn curious eyes to Will.

"Is there something the matter, Will?" He has the nerve to look concerned.

Will's gonna give him concern. Right in his fucking face.

"I'm fine," Will says through his teeth. Hannibal does not appear convinced, and now Jack is also giving him sidelong glances. Great. Will swallows and tries again, this time with a smile that feels like it belongs on a serial killer's face and probably looks no better. "I am fine. Really. Please, carry on."

Hannibal inclines his head in a gentlemanly fashion and turns his attention back to Jack and Bella Crawford.

"Where were we?"

"I believe we were complimenting this delicious meal." Jack grins.

"You have to share the recipe," Bella adds, fork poised delicately over her dish.

Hannibal smiles, mock-demure. "It would be my pleasure. However, I must warn you that most of my recipes require a rather personal touch-"

Will's hand clenches around his knife.

"-as well as very specific cuts of meat."

Will slams his hands on the table and shoots to his feet. The chair screeches horribly. The china shrieks. Three heads swivel to look at him with expressions ranging from honest bewilderment (Bella), to disapproval (Jack), and caution poorly disguised as concern (Hannibal, of-fucking-course).

"Please, excuse me," Will grits out.

Hannibal nods slowly.

The door to the dining room slams open then shut as Will pushes through it. He does not stop until he is in the kitchen, head in Hannibal's fridge. A bottle of red wine is slotted on one of the lower shelves. Meant for cooking, likely.

Will pulls it out, unscrews the cork, and chugs like a champ.

"Will."

Hannibal. A splash of anger to go down with the wine.

Footsteps echo slowly, purposefully, toward where Will has secluded himself in a nook between the fridge and the pantry. "Will, look at me, please."

Will puts the bottle down and turns. Hannibal stands a step away, hands relaxed at his sides. His face is concerned.

His fingers are tense.

"Will-"

"Stop," Will snaps. Hannibal halts, partway through taking another step closer.

"Will, if there is something the matter-"

"For the love of God, do you never shut up?"

Irritation tightens Hannibal's mouth. In a moment, Will thinks in a sort of frantic daze, his iron control will return and he will erase even that tiny slip.

Will strides forward and presses his right hand right where the line of anger runs, at the corner of Hannibal's lips. Hannibal grips him at the wrist, fingers strong and immovable - reacting with reflexes as sharp as the scalpels he totes about. Hardly a therapist's gentle touch. Will does not even flinch. His eyes fall to Hannibal's mouth, slack with surprise.

"I swear, if you make-" Will murmurs, breath washing over the man's thin lips, "-one more fucking pun about cannibalism tonight, I'm going to tear out your tongue and _stuff it down your throat_."

Hannibal inhales sharply. His hand tightens around Will's; Will carries on, undeterred by the pain.

"Every time. Every fucking time I sit on your fucking table, I have to hear about goddamn rabbits and deer and how much you _love_ to have people for dinner. Well, I'm done. I'm out. You want someone to smile and play along, get Bedelia in here. I want no part in it."

Will pants for breath. Hannibal looks at him like he's something wild and dangerous and he's not certain whether he wants to tame him, or shoot him dead.

Will laughs. Well, that makes two of them.

"You think you're so clever, but you're not. Jack may not be me, but he's still fucking FBI, Hannibal. Sooner or later he's going to put exotic dinners and missing organs together and remember your smug, stupid face. And I guarantee you, they don't serve filet mignon in the slammer." He lowers his voice, calming by degrees. The last of his words is a murmur spoken perilously close to Hannibal's jaw. "Do you have to be such a goddamn show-off all the damn time?"

Several seconds pass. Hannibal  breathes evenly, chest pressing against Will's with every inhale. Will is not certain when they had moved this close to each other. He does not back off.

"When?"

"Garret Jacob Hobbs' kitchen," Will responds promptly. Hannibal's hand squeezes briefly around Will's wrist. There will be bruises there. Will's looking forward to seeing them tremendously.

"You never said anything."

"It's not something you bring up over tea and biscuits."

"You just did."

"I'm pretty sure those weren't biscuits," Will says. Hannibal's mouth ticks up at the edges.

"No," he agrees. "Although one of them did posses a rather unfortunate name related to confectionary."

Will blinks at Hannibal. "Don't tell me - Candy? You killed a woman named _Candy_? Where'd you even _meet_ her - wait, did you go to a strip joint?"

Hannibal looks so adorably bemused. Will kind of wants to squish his cheeks, but that might be the adrenaline leaving his system in a rush talking. Or the encephalitis. Which, Will remembers, he has to bring up at some point and possibly bash Hannibal's stupid, enhanced nose in over.

"You are taking this better than I thought you might."

"I've had some time to think. Originally, I wanted to feed you to my dogs."

Hannibal blinks. "That... would have been a strange thing to explain to the FBI."

Will grins. "Who said anyone'd find out? You're not the only one that can make people disappear, Doctor Lecter."

Hannibal's gaze turns from interested to _intense_ in half a breath. Will feels a pull on his trapped wrist and then he is being pressed against Hannibal's chest, groin to shoulders. His face flushes.

"Guests," he squeaks out when it becomes obvious Hannibal means to carry on in this vein.

"I suppose we have been gone rather long," Hannibal concedes. He is still to release Will.

Will darts forward and brushes his lips over Hannibal's jaw. Stubble rasps against his lips. Hannibal makes a wounded noise and parts his mouth.

Will twists away. "Later. When Jack and his goatee are not here to judge."

Hannibal lets him go reluctantly. His fingers slide over Will's wrist, tracing the purple flowers blooming there before dropping away. Will tugs his sleeve over them with some regret. Now is not the time to be displaying such intimate things.

"You will stay," Hannibal says, and it is not a question. Will looks at him and sees murder in his eyes. He shudders.

"Always."

Hannibal nods, a regal bow of his head. "Very well. If you would please fetch the round dish on the counter. I think we better be moving onto dessert."

Will does as he is instructed and trails in Hannibal's wake. He does not even try to keep his eyes off the man's ass.

"Apologies for the slight delay. Will was helping me with dessert," Hannibal says as they re enter the dining room, smooth and suave. Jack and Bella look up from a quiet conversation. Bella smiles. Jack shoots Will a glare.

"Didn't know you cooked, Graham," he says over a twist of the lips that passes for cordial.

Will shrugs and takes his seat at Hannibal's right. "I do well enough."

"Will was of great assistance," Hannibal assures, and then: "It's always nice to have other people in the kitchen." Will delivers a swift and savage kick to Hannibal's shin under the table. Hannibal retains his jovial expression with some difficulty. "There are always so many chores to be done, you see," he adds rather weakly.

Jack and Bella nod politely.

Will sighs.

No one said love was easy, but surely this is too much.


End file.
